Voldemort's Daughter
by dail-of-the-air
Summary: We all know that Voldemort could never possibly have had a daughter, but suppose he had? What is it like to be forever associated with the most evil wizard ever? Not a story, but moments from her life. Does not follow canon timeline.
1. Prologue

**This idea has been sitting around in my computer for a while. It's not as dark as I orignally was aiming for, but it is what it is. Reviews are very much appreciated and will be taken into account. Please enjoy.  
dail-of-the-air**

Being Voldemort's daughter isn't easy. Never has been, never will be. But who's to say that hard isn't fun?

My father was evil. There's no other word for it, and that's a fact that I learned to live with from the day I was born. I've never known my mother, and I never really had a desire to know her after doing some growing up. That's just how it is, being Voldemort's daughter. You learn to be curious about things that you can find out about, not about things that you can't. And you learn to live with those facts.

That's what it's all about, isn't it? Living: How to do it in the most effective way possible, for as long as possible, preferably forever. That was my father's philosophy, anyways. I have nothing wrong with Death. He never did me wrong. Only Life has, and that was what my father couldn't seem to understand. For him, Life was something that must last forever.

Harry Potter understands my philosophy. He's also amazingly hot-headed and naive. Imagine! A boy who thought that _Albus Dumbledore_, of all people, was the cure-all for all his problems with my father. Yeah, right. Dumbledore understood naught about death until his last years. Then was when he finally learned to accept that Death never did anybody wrong. Only Life ever did.

Like the time that I found out that having a father who tortures and kills people for a living isn't normal. When I found out that _normal_ is being a loving, caring person who can't possibly take pleasure in torturing people who have done them no wrong. Oh, that night was terrible.

And all the times that I've been watched a little too closely just because of whom my father is. I get it, people are scared of the great You-Know-Who, and any offspring he may have. Most of the time, I don't mind when people are suspicious. They have a right to be. But it's just plain annoying when I have to deal with all that hate mail. Sometimes I wish that the wizarding post was like the Muggle post – it only gets to the recipient if you've got the right address. Which is why I've been living untraceably for all my life, more or less.

I've learned to live with Lord Voldemort as a father. He, unfortunately, never did learn to live with me as a daughter. I was just his youngest Death Eater in training, his newest spy on Hogwarts, the only heir to Slytherin after he's gone (not that he'd ever be, according to him). He never did figure out the fact that once I grew up a bit, I was only rarely fighting for him.


	2. Sorting

I can remember my Sorting at Hogwarts. Who can't? The Hat had been all set to put me in Slytherin as soon as it touched my head. But I was too quick for it. I managed to make it reconsider before it put me in the House of Green and Silver.

_Please_, I thought to the Sorting Hat, before it could yell out its instantaneous decision, _please, judge me not on my ancestors, but who I am_. And the Hat listened, for it listens to all who are bold enough to doubt its decisions.

_Ah, a different kind of Riddle, I see. I daresay you're far cleverer than your father. Still, you are yet too much of a Slytherin to go into any other house. _SLYTHERIN!!!!!

And with that, I was sorted into the house that every one of my ancestors had gone into. I've never particularly minded, because I am who I am. At least the Sorting Hat took the time to really look at who I am. I can accept that decision.


	3. Meeting Snape and Evans

I remember when I met Severus Snape and Lily Evans. They were my best friends for a long time, though neither truly understood me. If there was one person in all of Hogwarts that could have understood me, it was Sirius Black. But he had his buddies; he was a part of the Golden Four: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. The last turned out to be a great help to my father; why wasn't I surprised by sniveling Pettigrew when he turned up on our doorstep? (Or, rather, Snape's doorstep, but no matter.)

I met the two during our 3rd year, on the train to Hogwarts. For the first two years at Hogwarts, I'd made some acquaintances, but I hadn't really opened up to anybody. I was wandering down the train, looking for an empty compartment, when I saw Severus and Evans. He beckoned to me, and I obliged, stowing my trunk and taking a seat.

"Hey, Snape. You're Lily Evans, right? I'm Lyssa Riddle – good to meet you."

"Riddle. Had a good summer?" asked Snape, acknowledging me.

"Fine, nothing really special. What about you?"

"Not much. Spent all my time with Evans here – no better company." At this point, he gave Evans a sly wink. She pretended to look affronted and punched him lightly on the shoulder.

"Lyssa Riddle .... Riddle, Riddle, why does the name sound so familiar?" asked Evans.

"If it helps you any, my dad was Tom Riddle. Head Boy, Prefect, Slytherin Prince, perfect student. I've got a whole lot to live up to."

"_Was_ Tom Riddle? Has he ... passed?" Evans seemed slightly ashamed to be asking such a personal question so early on in acquaintance, but apparently her Gryffindor courage and natural curiosity took over decorum.

I grimaced at my amateur's mistake. I should have paid more attention to the tense, but I'd already spoken, so all I could do was hope to cover it up. Quietly, I stowed away the fact that Lily was extremely perceptive to pick up on that.

"You could say that. He's not exactly _dead_, so to speak, but he's not exactly always there for me either." Evans seemed to sense that she'd almost crossed the line and did not press further.

The rest of the train ride was spent in card games, and a few conversations. Never once was my father mentioned again during the ride. Even so, I remained alert to what kind of information I was giving about my personal life whenever I spoke, which was not very often.


	4. Attempted Comforting

I can remember how devastated Severus was when Lily stopped being his best friend. He'd called her Mudblood when she'd come to the rescue – an unforgivable mistake that I, especially being the Dark Lord's daughter, knew better than to make unintentionally. Sure, the word was useful for persuading blood-obsessed Slytherins and Death Eaters, but I'd figured out from a young age not to use it unless necessary. You might offend some important pawns on the board. But I digress.

Snape came, on the brink of tears. I could tell that he was trying to 'be a man' and all that, but what he really wanted to do was curl up into a little ball, find a hole, and sob.

"What happened, Sev?" Out of the public eye, Severus and I were on quite familiar terms, and remained so for the rest of our lives.

"I called Lily 'Mudblood'! How could I possibly have made such a stupid mistake? I've loved her forever, and now it's my own fault that she's not going to forgive me."

"What happened? What on earth possessed you to call her _that_? How could you have made such an elementary mistake, Sev?" I tried, I really did, not to sound too severe, but it came out harsher than I'd meant. Comforting people has never really been my strong point.

"That air-head, Potter, hexed me. And then Lily came out and saw us, and she was trying to defend me, and I told her that ... that ..." he couldn't seem to be able to get the words out, "that I didn't need help from a filthy ... little .... Mudblood." He barely got out the last three words.

I sighed. "Oh, Sev, now you've lost your best friend. You know, she'll never forgive you now. I've talked to her, she hasn't trusted you nearly as much anymore because you hang out with Nott and all the other people obsessed with my father and the Dark Arts. And that's been for a while now."

"What have I done," he moaned.

"Given up your ticket to salvation for my father's ridiculously devoted cult of black-robed, masked dogs." I've always been a cynic, and now I really wished that I knew how to comfort people. I suppose that just doesn't run in the genes. When I have an ulterior motive, suddenly I know just what to do to manipulate people's emotions.

"Oh, you're ever the cynic, aren't you, Lyssa? Could you, for once, at least _try_ to be sympathetic? I know, I know, it's hard for you, but I _do_ need somebody to moan and groan to."

"I'm sorry, Sev. I really _should_ try harder. How about this: Severus Snape, do you know what you have done to your life? Yes, you've just snubbed the greatest love of your life, but you need to pick yourself up and move on. Nothing good's going to happen if you continue to dwell on the past, and once you're all done with the five stages of grief, you'll see what I mean." I'd put on the nasal tone of a smug old lady who thinks she knows everything because of her 'ancient wisdom' but really knows nothing.

It seemed to work. He started to smile through near sobs and put on a whiny boy tone.

"But Grandma Riddle, I _can't_ get over her. She's just too perfect!"

"Oh, but you must, young man! We have things to do today, classes to go to, teachers to make fun of, and airhead Seekers to tease!"

Sev was really laughing now. "Oh, Lyssa, you see, you can help people. Maybe you should become a sylokogist or whatever the Muggles call those shrinks." I snorted.

"_Psychologist_, Severus, psychologist. And just why would I want to spend my days talking to people?

"Because you're so good at it, Lyssa." Suddenly, he became serious again.

"But really, what _am_ I going to do? I can't just go back and apologize, d'you even think she'd listen to me? Now's the time for your brutal honesty, by the way."

"She might, but I don't think so. It's definitely worth a try, but don't you go running off to her now. She's probably too upset to listen to you right now, and I wouldn't be surprised if she starts dating Potter just to spite you. Give her a chance to cool down a bit, and if I know Lily, then she might just listen, even if she doesn't forgive you. It's better for her to at least _know_ you're sorry, even if she can't accept it." Sev winced slightly at the mention of her name.

That night, he waited in front of the Gryffindor common room for Lily. He didn't succeed, but I think that deep down, Lily always knew that he loved her, even if she couldn't love him back.


	5. First Kill

**I'm rather out of ideas for the next one-shot, so any ideas you might have are very welcome. Thank you for reading, even if you haven't left a review (no pressure there .... PRESSURE, PRESSURE, PRESSURE! :]) **

* * *

The first time I killed a human. It was in cold blood, on orders from my father. I couldn't just disobey, because then my act would be given up. It was a good thing that I was a better liar than my father, like Severus, because it meant that I didn't have to fight for him. I often wish that I'd never killed, but what can one say? It was for the greater good.

I was sent to kill a young wizard in London. I was to seduce him, gain his trust, learn his secrets. Then, I'd swoop in for the kill. I just couldn't stand the cruelty of those orders, so I tweaked them around a little.

I did get to know him; I did get all of his secrets. But I was honest with him; I told him who I was. He was afraid at first, very suspicious, as expected. Eventually he realized that I was on his side, and he told me what I needed to know to twist the truth.

He was the one who ended up telling me to kill him. He said that he'd rather die peacefully than hide forever from my father. He'd gotten all his affairs in order, we'd make it look like an accident. His suicide wish probably had something to do with growing pressure from the Death Eaters that had infiltrated the Ministry, where he worked. They were the 'bad cops' in Operation Information.

So I did it. I made it quick, easy. I'm not like Bellatrix Lestrange; I don't enjoy torturing people before I kill them. I'm the cat who doesn't play with his food unless absolutely necessary.


End file.
